


grey

by waveydnp



Series: waveydaysFICS [8]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, slightly hopeful at the end because i can never make anything fully angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveydnp/pseuds/waveydnp
Summary: dan wakes up in the hole again. phil tries to take care of him, but sometimes not even phil is enough.





	grey

**Author's Note:**

> waveydaysFICS week #7 theme: mental health
> 
> just a heads up, this is a little heavier than what i normally write. inspired by dan's video daniel and depression, along with my own personal experiences dealing with this illness. this is fiction, though. i'm not claiming that any of this actually happened.
> 
> check out ashley's mental health fic (a little fluffier than mine) @iihappydaysii

Dan’s awake, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t need to to know that the world is going to look a little different today. Different, but not new. He’s seen it look like this before, more times than he cares to think about. There will be no colour today, no warmth. The view from behind his brown eyes will be flat and ashen like tv static.

He lies perfectly still, hoping not to wake Phil. Dan’s not ready to see that look of concerned sadness just yet. He’s not ready to ruin Phil’s day.

He opens his eyes and turns his head and sees with a sigh of relief that Phil’s not actually beside him anymore. Probably making coffee or something. It’s not that unusual. Neither of them could ever be described as morning people, but Dan in particular finds it hard to drag his long body out of bed anytime before noon, and that's on a good day.

Today is not a good day. Today, throwing back the duvet and feeling carpet beneath his feet might as well be impossible. He’s glad he doesn't have anywhere he needs to be today. Not that it’d really change anything, because there’s not a fucking chance he could compel himself to leave the flat, but he’s grateful that the only person he’ll be disappointing today is Phil.

He shouldn’t think like that. It doesn't do him any good and Phil has asked him countless times not to say stuff like that, which sometimes actually makes Dan feels worse. He doesn’t deserve the kind of unwavering understanding and support Phil has shown him over the past five years. He hasn’t done anything to earn it. He’s just a pathetic kid with a crush who managed to catch Phil’s attention one day and has been clinging on for dear life ever since. He’s nothing but a burden. 

Days like today really crystallize that thought for him, allow him to cut through the layers of denial and rationalization that, on good days, make him feel somewhat worthy of that kind of devotion. He shudders, guilt wracking through his body to imagine the kind of life Phil could have had, could still have, if he wasn’t constantly being dragged down by Dan’s dead weight. 

He closes his eyes again and prays for the sweet release of sleep, knowing it won't come, not when he knows Phil will be bursting through the door any minute demanding for him to get up and drink his coffee before it gets cold. 

It doesn't take too much longer for the interaction he’s been dreading to come. He hears Phil’s heavy footsteps clonking down the hall and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Get up you lazy tyke or I’m gonna watch Game of Thrones without you and eat all your cinnamons.”

Dan rolls over so he’s facing away. “Don’t wanna. ‘M tired.” He flinches. His voice is wrong--dull and lifeless, with none of the usual fond annoyance that colours most of his early morning interactions with Phil. 

He feels the bed dip as Phil sits beside him, feels the weight of Phil’s hand atop his arm. “Want me to bring your coffee in here?” His voice is caring and concerned and Dan hates himself for feeling so dead inside that it doesn’t even matter. All he really wants is for Phil to go away and stop reminding him how numb and empty he feels. 

“No. Can’t.”

Phil’s thumb slips under the duvet to caress the naked skin of Dan’s shoulder. “You’ll get a headache if you don't drink at least one cup,” he says softly.

“Don't care.” 

Phil just doesn't understand, Dan thinks. He’d love to have a headache--at least that would mean he was feeling  _ something. _ Anything would be better than this. This fog. This emptiness.

“Do you want to come out here with me and watch something?”

Dan shakes his head.

“Want me to stay in here with you?”

Dan knows without a doubt that he’s going to cry about this later, when the crushing emptiness passes and he remembers how little effort he’d put into trying to be brave, into sparing Phil the pain of knowing how far gone Dan is today. 

“No. Please leave me alone.”

Phil’s fingers gently brush the fringe from Dan’s forehead before he gets up off the bed and walks away, closing the door behind him without a word. Dan wants to cry now, wants to feel the lump in his throat and the shame in his gut, but he doesn’t. All he feels is relief that he’s alone again in the hole. 

He doesn’t know how long he lies in bed staring at the ceiling before Phil comes back again with a mug of coffee and a piece of toast. 

“Phil, I don't--”

“Just shut up and drink this please.” He slides his hand under Dan’s back, forcing him to sit up and accept the lukewarm mug. “It’s cool enough to chug. Just get it over with, yeah? I’m not leaving til it’s gone.”

Dan doesn’t bother arguing, though the taste of it holds none of the pleasure it normally would. He guesses it does feel kind of good for the acrid taste in his uncleaned mouth to be replaced by something a little more palatable. 

“Eat this,” Phil says, shoving the plate of toast in Dan’s direction. 

Dan shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Try. Please.”

This will hurt Dan later too, the crack in Phil’s voice when he says please. He picks up the toast and takes as big a bite as he can fit in his mouth, wanting to get it down as quickly as possible. 

It’a mistake. His mouth is so dry and the toast so hard, it feels like chewing sand and scratches his throat viciously on its way down. He coughs, thumping a fist into his chest until he’s able to choke it down. 

“I can’t,” Dan croaks. He looks over at Phil and instantly wishes he hadn’t. His eyes are wide and his face has drained of what little colour it’d had before. He looks terrified. 

“I’m… fine,” Dan forces himself to say. “I'm ok. Just really not hungry.”

Phil nods. “You wanna come out now?”

Dan shakes his head. He doesn’t really think he will, but he wants Phil to enjoy his day. There are no videos to film or edit, no liveshows, no radio show to prepare for. There may be some emails, but those are almost always ignorable for at least a day. Phil could do anything, go anywhere, see anyone. Maybe Bryony, or Martyn. 

“You could go out if you want,” Dan says weakly. 

Phil snorts, picking up the empty mug and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Right.” Once again he gets up and walks out without further comment. 

Dan tells himself that the next time Phil comes in, he’ll force himself to do whatever it is Phil wants him to do. His legs still work, there’s nothing wrong with his body. He can stand up and move his feet and sit where Phil wants him to and point his eyes in the direction of the telly and pretend he sees the images it projects and hears the sounds it emits. He doesn't have to spend all day in bed being a mopey asshole. He can at least pretend.

Phil deserves that. 

He notes the look of surprise on Phil’s face a few hours later when he agrees to join Phil in the lounge. 

“Yeah?” Phil asks. 

“Yeah,” Dan replies, keeping the duvet wrapped around his shoulders as he follows Phil down the hall. 

They settle next to each other on the sofa. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Phil asks, voice painfully hopeful.

Dan shrugs, his resolve to pretend already waning.

“Mario Kart?”

Dan shakes his head. The idea that he could muster up enough energy to give a shit to actually play a game himself is laughable. 

“Wanna just watch me play Zelda, then?”

Dan notes the disappointment in Phil’s voice, but nods. That sounds doable.

It’s almost comfortable, the familiarity of the sounds of the game, the colourful jumble of images that move across the screen. He leans into Phil more and more as time goes on, until his head is resting against the side of Phil’s thigh. He appreciates the way the feeling of the muscles in Phil’s arm moving against his cheek keep him tethered to reality, reminding him that though he can’t convince his brain, his body knows he’s not alone. The ghosts in the hole are whispering in his ear, trying to make him believe that no one likes him and he’s not worth the space he takes up or the air that filters through his lungs, but how can that be true when he feels the solid weight of this man underneath him, this man who never seems to give up on him? 

He feels Phil’s fingers in his unwashed hair and realizes his eyes are closed. He must have fallen asleep, head in Phil’s lap.

“Wake up, love,” Phil whispers.

If it were another day, Dan would smile, maybe even laugh a little and call Phil a spork for being so sentimental. But today he doesn’t know how to smile, and he knows that Phil channels Kath when Dan gets like this. His voice softens and his hands stroke over Dan’s face tenderly and he calls Dan whatever pet name comes to his mind first. 

“How long was I asleep?” His voice is raspy and his throat burns, hot and dry.

“Couple hours. Will you eat something?”

Dan shakes his head.

“Some water, then?”

Dan runs his tongue over his bottom lip, feeling cracks. He doesn’t even have enough saliva in his mouth to wet it. “Yeah.”

Phil gently picks Dan up from his lap and gets up from the sofa. Dan curls himself up into a ball and lies down against the warmth Phil’s body has left behind on the sofa cushion. 

Phil returns a minute later and places the glass on the coffee table. He uses firm hands to sit Dan up and lean him against the back of the couch. He takes gentle hold of Dan’s head, hands on either side of his face and stares into his eyes like he’s searching. For an answer, maybe, a spark of something to reassure him that the man he loves is still in there somewhere. 

He leans forward, pressing his forehead into Dan’s. Dan can feel that Phil’s hands are trembling. 

“I--” Phil’s voice breaks dramatically. He clears his throat and tries again. “I love you.”

Dan knows he means it. He knows it and yet, he feels nothing. Just a dull ache knowing he simply can’t reciprocate right now.

“Ok?” Phil asks.

Dan nods.

Phil picks up the glass and hands it to Dan. “Drink this.”

The water is cold, and the relief Dan feels as it washes down his throat is the strongest emotion he’s felt since he first opened his eyes that morning. He chugs the whole glass in seconds.

“Change your mind about food?”

Dan pulls the duvet around himself tighter and shakes his head. “I wanna go back to bed, Phil.”

Phil takes the glass from Dan’s hand and stands up. “Alright. We will. But you need to shower first.”

Dan scrunches his nose in dissent. “Can’t.”

“You can,” Phil says firmly. “I’ll help you.”

Dan frowns. He can’t think of too many things he’d like to do less at this point. He opens his mouth to protest but Phil cuts him off.

“You don’t smell good, love.” He puts his hand on Dan’s knee. “You’ll feel better after.” He takes Dan’s cold hand in his warm one and pulls him up off the couch. “Come on. We’ll make it quick.”

Phil leads Dan to the bathroom, tossing the duvet out into the hall and shutting the door. He starts the shower and turns to face Dan.

They look at each for a moment. Phil’s eyes are so big and so blue and so full of pain, Dan can almost register how badly he’s fucking things up. They’ve been doing this for far too long now, Dan falling apart and forcing Phil to pick up the pieces. He’s never even put a name to what this feeling is. He doesn't understand how Phil is  _ still _ here, slowly pulling Dan’s shirt off, sliding his sweatpants down, holding his hand as Dan steps shakily into the hot steam. He never leaves, even though Dan wouldn’t blame him if he did. 

“Want me to come in with you?” 

Dan shakes his head. His uselessness is starting to overwhelm him. He wonders if they’ll ever be able to make it if he can't even bring himself to wash his own ass.

He turns to face the spray, letting it hit his face and wash down his chest. He has no idea how long he’s been stood there before Phil says, “Wash your hair, Dan.”

So he does. Lathers up the top of his head with Phil’s shampoo and watches the bubbles disappear down the drain as he rinses it out.

Phil’s head appears around the shower curtain. “Wash your body now, ok? You’re nearly done.”

Dan does as he’s told, grateful for the instruction. He knows he won’t actually feel better as Phil had promised, but a part of him is glad that he could at least do one thing Phil had wanted him to do. 

“Can I get out now?”

Phil turns off the water and holds a towel out for Dan to step into, wrapping him up tightly and running his hands up and down Dan’s arms. He feels like a child again, when his nan would give him a bath and rub his toweled body afterwards to dry him off and warm him up. 

“Let’s go to bed.”

When they get to Dan’s bedroom, Dan drops the towel and crawls into the bed quickly. Phil throws the duvet over the bed and smoothes it out over Dan’s body. “Do you want pants or pjs?” he asks quietly.

Dan shakes his head, curling up and hugging his knees. 

“Do you want me to sleep in my room tonight?” 

Dan considers it, he really does. Usually they don’t even think twice about sleeping together, wanting to be as close as possible in the dark. Phil is a cuddler and Dan feels safe in Phil’s arms. He wonders if it might be easier on Phil to spend the night apart but quickly thinks better of it. 

“No,” he says clearly, suddenly desperate to feel Phil’s skin against his. “Fuck no. Come here.”

Phil pulls off his shirt and climbs under the covers, gathering Dan up in his arms and squeezing. Dan uncurls his body and melts into Phil, sighing as their chests press together. He tilts his head up and catches Phil’s mouth with his lips.

Phil kisses back gently, mouth relaxed but closed. Dan licks along Phil’s lip and nudges Phil’s mouth open, desperate to taste him and feel Phil’s tongue against his. He shivers when he feels Phil’s teeth graze his lip.

He slides his hand down Phil’s stomach and under the waistband of his sweatpants. He’s still soft but Dan knows a million ways to fix that.

Phil wraps his hand around Dan’s wrist firmly, stopping him. “What are you doing?” He pulls off of Dan’s lips and looks at him, features muddled with fear and concern. 

Dan surges forward again and crashes his mouth into Phil’s. “Please.” He feels hot tears of desperation spill from his eyes. “Please Phil, please.” He's kissing Phil roughly, grabbing the soft skin of Phil’s waist.

“What, Dan? What’s going on?” He sounds proper scared now, which just strengthens Dan’s resolve. He wants to get lost in Phil, to be filled up and taken over and moved to feel something else, something other than this emptiness. He wants to engulf Phil and make him feel good and remind him that they still fit together just right, even when he can’t bring himself to say  _ I love you. _

“I need you,” he gasps, tasting the salt of his tears as he bites Phil’s neck. “I need you to help me. Help me feel… something. Help me feel something, Phil. Please.”

*

Phil leans his forehead against the cold, slippery tiles of the shower as the boiling hot water rolls off his back. His chest heaves. He’s trying to let his breaths come slow and deep but it’s not working. His heart is pounding as he remembers the way Dan had kissed him, the way he’d climbed on top and rode him with a purpose so fierce Phil had allowed himself to forget for a moment what was really happening.

He remembers the truth crashing back down on him like an anvil, remembers Dan rolling off him the moment they’d come. His stomach lurches. All of a sudden he’s glad he’d been too scared and tense to eat anything since breakfast. 

He’d left the bed without a word, and Dan hadn't called after him. Shame burns him down deep, caustic when paired with the nausea. He scrubs his skin harshly, turning up the hot water a little more, hoping the burning and the scrubbing will rid him of the spiders crawling beneath his skin.

How could he have done that? How had he allowed himself to use Dan that way, to let Dan use him that way? He doesn't even really know what happened. He doesn't know who to blame or what to think. He loves Dan, so much he feels like it’s going to eat him alive sometimes. Dan’s tearful pleading and hot wet mouth had been too much to resist. He’d probably have done anything in that moment, anything to ease Dan’s pain, even if just for a few minutes.

He knows they need to talk. They can’t let things carry on this way. Not anymore. Not after this. Phil knows he’s finally reached the level he can't handle on his own. The desperation in Dan’s eyes is burned into Phil’s consciousness still, branding him with the knowledge that he’s not enough anymore--he can't save Dan by himself. 

He stays in the shower until the water runs cold. He towels off quickly and pulls on sweatpants and a hoodie. He doesn't go back to bed--not his and not Dan’s. Instead he goes downstairs and into the lounge with his mobile. 

It’s late but he doesn't care. He dials his mum’s number, knowing she’ll be asleep and knowing without a doubt that she’ll answer as soon as he wakes her.

“Phil? What’s wrong?”

“Hi mum,” he says quietly, swallowing around the rapidly forming lump in his throat.

“What’s happened?”

“Um… nothing?” He bites his lip. He doesn't want Kath to hear him cry.

“You didn't call me in the middle of the night for nothing, child. Where’s Dan?” 

Phil feels the blood drain from his face. “He’s… He’s…” He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, but he can’t stop it. A sob wracks his body.

His mum’s voice is stern. “Tell me he’s alright, Philip.”

“He’s… not. Not hurt, but not alright.” Tears stream down his face now, his breathing ragged. “I can’t do it anymore, mum. I can’t.”

Kath doesn’t say anything, just listens to her son as he cries. She waits.

Eventually Phil runs out of energy, slumping down into the the sofa and hugging his knees to his chest.

“What can’t you do, Phil? What’s going on?”

Phil sniffles, digging the heels of his hands into his damp eyelids. “I don't know how to help him anymore, mum. It’s too much.”

“Are you leaving? Do you need to come home, love?”

He feels as if he’s been shocked. “What?”

“Did you split up?” she asks softly, like he’s a small child who doesn’t quite understand.

“N-no. No, mum. Of course I’m not leaving him. He needs help.” Suddenly he’s angry, and it chases away the fear and uncertainty he’d been feeling just seconds before. She knows what Dan has been going through, or at least she knows as well as Phil has been able to describe it to her. And she’d raised him better than to turn his back on someone in pain, especially someones he loves with every fiber of his being.

“Yes,” she says slowly. “But that’s not necessarily your job, is it? Not if he’s hurting you, too.”

“He’s… he’s not… he doesn’t mean to.”

“You said you can’t do it anymore.”

“I meant I can’t do it alone. I’m not leaving. I’d never leave him like this.” He wipes his nose on the knee of his sweatpants. “I’d never leave him, period.”

“You can’t be responsible for helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”

He frowns. This is all wrong. She doesn’t understand. “I thought you liked him,” he whispers.

“We do, Phil. We love him. But he’s not my son, is he? Have you been keeping a secret from me?”

“No, mum, god.” He’s devolving back into a petulant teenager now. “For the hundredth time, we’re not married.”

“Then you’re not obligated to stay.”

“Dan’s not an obligation, mum. He’s my fucking boyfriend.” He bites his lip, regretting his harsh words instantly. He’s never cursed in front of her before, let alone  _ at _ her. 

“I know, love. But there’s only so many times I can listen to my baby boy crying on the phone before I become concerned.”

He softens. She’s still his mum after all. It’s still her job to protect him from the heartbreaks life has to offer, or at least it’s still her job to try. “I’m sorry, mum. But it’s not like that. I love him and he needs me.”

“Well we’re here to help you two in any we can. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

He sighs. “I can’t really talk to him when he’s like this.”

“Well that’s the first step, right?”

“I guess.”

They’re silent for a while, listening to each other breathe. He wishes she were here to hold him, wishes he could smell her perfume and hear her laugh, feel her soft fingers stroke his temple like they did when he was little and couldn’t sleep. 

“I’m scared, mum,” he whispers.

“It’s going to be alright, dear. I promise.”

*

By the time Phil finally crawls back into the bed, Dan’s all but convinced himself that he’s ruined everything. He’s lying so still Phil probably think he’s asleep. Phil doesn’t say anything, doesn’t reach out for Dan as he normally would. Dan’s heart sinks. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t handle hurting Phil like this. The burning desperation to feel something, anything besides the grey emptiness, had been all-consuming, nearly involuntary in its insistence. He doesn’t know what he would have done had Phil not been here. But he can’t let himself find out--ever. And he can’t allow the one person who’s ever shown him true unconditional love to become nothing more than a crutch, a fix. He can’t keep going like this.

“Phil.”

Phil turns over immediately, looking into Dan’s eyes. “You ok?”

Dan shakes his head. He can’t infuse his voice with the depth of emotion that he knows he’ll feel tomorrow, because he’s still in the hole, but he can’t let Phil fall asleep without making sure he knows how ready Dan is for things to be different. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry. You were just so… god. I should never have… taken advantage like that.”

Dan reaches out in the darkness, sliding his hand up Phil’s arm and then his neck to rest against his lightly stubbled jaw. “You didn’t. I wanted it. I needed you. And I didn’t really give you a choice, did I?”

Phil doesn’t say anything, just places his hand overtop of Dan’s.

“I think this is my rock bottom, Phil,” Dan whispers. “Using you like that… I never want to feel like that again. I never want to make you feel like that again.”

Phil picks up Dan’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “I don’t think we can do this alone anymore, Dan.”

“I know. I don’t want to. I want to get better.”

“And you will.”

Dan rolls over and shuffles back until his body slots up against Phil’s. “Can we sleep now?”

Phil wraps his arm around Dan’s waist. “Of course.”

Dan doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t whisper any more words of comfort or assurance. He doesn’t make any promises, because he still doesn’t know if he can keep them. He doesn’t know how brave he’ll feel in the morning or how strong his denial will be once he wakes up and feels like himself again, however temporary that feeling may be. He doesn’t know if he can get better. All he knows is that he wants to. 

**Author's Note:**

> waveydnp on tumblr :)


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